Guinea Pig
by striped sunhat
Summary: The first steps are made in curing revenants. Also Gil and Klaus attempt to work on their family issues. Progress is made on at least one of these fronts.


The contents of the vial Gil set in front of him were a particularly disturbing shade of brownish-red. If it were at all possible to reliquefy dried blood without reversing the oxidation process that's what Klaus would suspect he'd been handed. It wasn't technically outside the realm of possibility.

"We're trying this." It can't be a good sign that his son won't even muster up a lukewarm evasion along the lines of 'we think this might work.' Klaus eyed the vial. It was bubbling slightly and there appeared to be the smallest edging of frost along the sides.

"I still don't see why I couldn't be a part of the process of creating this cure, if it even is one."

Gil sighed. The dark bags that had been under his eyes were better but Klaus could tell that the bone-deep tiredness hadn't been touched by the way he sagged into the wall for a second before physically rallying himself. Not for the first time Klaus regretted having to leave his son with the Barony. As much as he regretted it, he did have to admit Gil had done an admirable job stepping into the role. That brief moment of weakness had been the only sign he'd given of how worn down he was. In a few years he would probably be able to mask even that. "You know as well as I do why we can't do that."

"That doesn't mean I couldn't have still offered input. Something like this I would think you'd want as many informed minds working towards it as you can."

"It's safer this way."

"It's no safer for anyone if it fails. I do have some experience in this particular field."

Gil's neutral expression dropped into a scowl. "I am already well aware of that Father." Klaus frowned at the cutting edge to his tone. Yes, he knew he'd ended up hurting his son. He hadn't meant to but it had happened nonetheless. But his son acted like any of the other so-called options Klaus had had at the time were any better. It seemed that some things even years of ruling had not taught his son yet. He eyed the concoction again.

"I suppose this is the best option."

"And it doesn't look to be changing any time soon."

With a sigh of his own, he picked the vial up, tilting it to get a better view. "Do I even want to know how that conclusion was reached?" The solution made an ominous hiss. "Or what this is composed of?"

"No idea. You'd have to ask Tarvek."

Klaus froze, vial halfway to his lips. "What do you mean I'd have to ask Tarvek?"

Gil shrugged. "It's his formula."

Klaus set the vial back down. It connected with the table with a dull thunk. The substance rippled far less than a liquid should. "And you expect me to simply drink it. Having no idea what it is."

"Father, just drink it."

"You expect me to willingly do the work of assassinating myself for him."

"Tarvek isn't trying to kill you Father."

"It would solve a great deal of his problems."

"This is about getting rid of the last of the Other and freeing everyone who's been trapped as a revenant. It's too important for Tarvek to do anything to risk it."

"Early trials often go wrong. Test subjects die. Or worse.

"Oh for the love of – You had no problem drinking it when you thought I'd come up with it."

There is a world of difference between accepting the necessity of you needing to be the one to deal with matters of the Other rather than myself and blindly trusting Tarvek Sturmvoraus."

"I don't blindly trust Tarvek."

"But you do trust him."

"A damn sight less than I trust Agatha."

"Then why wasn't she the one to come up with this?" Not that he'd willingly ingest anything she created either.

"Agatha had the Other _in her head_. We fixed it but we're also not stupid. We're not about to risk this on the off chance we might have missed something. In fact it's by Agatha's own insistence that she's staying even further out of the loop than I am."

The color suddenly changed to a lurid red. From dried blood to freshly spilled – not a shift that evoked reassurance in the drinker. Gil poked the vial. The color didn't change back. "If that turns back to puce we've waited too long and it's no good anymore."

"And it's changing colors why exactly?"

Gil shrugged again. "Not sure." He leaned against the wall behind him and pulling out the chain he'd worn after Agatha's 'death' from under his collar. Klaus hadn't realized his son had started wearing it again. The ring strung through it however was a different one than before. It was larger, sized for a man's hands, smooth edges pointing towards it being a proper ring rather than repurposed. It was engraved with… something. Klaus was too far away to tell what the engravings were. "It could be a delayed reaction or it could be some sort of indicator Tarvek added to act as a timer." He rolled his eyes, turning the ring over in his fingers. "When I asked him what 'puce' was he just glared at me and started grumbling about color palates."

Klaus pushed away from the table. "It's clear that not only is Sturmvoraus the chief architect in this poison but you had no hand in any part of its creation at all."

Gil followed him, rounded the table and crowding into his space. "I had my own mind problems that needed fixing too if you'll remember. We aren't going to risk it. And anyway it makes sense for Tarvek to be the one to handle this. He has the most comprehensive knowledge and understanding of how it works and therefore, how to fix it."

Klaus scowled. For all his son's words about not trusting Sturmvoraus his actions painted quite another picture. "Have you ever considered how he acquired this understanding?

"Have you ever considered how you perfected yours?"

"What I did –"

" **I. Don't. Care.** Maybe at some point I would have but that point has long since passed. I already know why you did it. I know every explanation and reasoning you would give me. And unless you have something that can profoundly surprise me I have no interest in the exercise of hearing them out loud."

When Klaus didn't say anything Gil closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He walked back around the table and pushed the vial closer to Klaus. "We're trying this," his son repeated. "I don't want your mind to not be your own for any longer than it has to be. Now, you can either drink it or I can tell Tarvek to make the next version injectable rather than ingestible."

Klaus picked the vial back up. Still glaring at his son he downed the contents. "Satisfied?"

"Thank you." Gil rapped his knuckles on the door behind him, a simple rhythmic pattern that changed each time he came, no way to predict or recreate. The door opened revealing a jäger Klaus didn't recognize with an impressively spiky hat holding a bayonet in one hand. Behind her were three other jägers all armed and watching. Gil passed the empty vial off to her, exchanging several quiet words. She nodded once before shutting the door again. The heavy metal creaked as it closed.

"Now what?"

"Tarvek said the formula will take an hour to fully take effect. At that point we'll start running tests. But for now," Gil sat down for the first time, motioning toward his father's empty chair, "we wait."


End file.
